This narrative is not for the fainthearted, of which I’m one, but it happened to me. And the voice I heard that day will forever baffle me.
It happened in the long hot summer of 2010. There had been no relief all summer until the last of August when the weather cooled down. Since it was decent out, for the first time in months, I decided to update the new gravesites in the East Plains Cemetery in Matherton - a town about 90 miles from where I live. I hadn’t had a chance do any updates in about three years, which can be a long time for finding the latest gravesites. At first they stand out like the new kid on the block then they blend in with the others and can be hard to find if there isn’t any headstone. In that case it's usually pretty impossible.
Gerald Hunter, a close friend that does ghost investigations and writes books about hauntings (Namely: Haunted Michigan and More Haunted Michigan)knew that I was cataloging and photographing a cemetery. He told me to take a tape recorder sometime and just let it run. "You might be surprised at some of the things you capture," he added. Little did I know that was an understatement so like the fool that "rushes in" and is always eager to try something new, I took a recorder with me that day and placed it on a tombstone in an older part of the cemetery. Leaving it to run while I strolled to the far side where the newer graves were. (the cemetery is in levels oldest section from the 17 hundreds moving uphill to the newer recent gravesites)
About a half-hour later I went back and picked up the recorder shutting it off as I walked away.
After I got home I listened to what I had captured during that half-hour. It was increasingly disappointing all I heard was the sound of several cars zooming past, on the fairly busy highway out front. Every now and then planes droned overhead, dogs barked from somewhere off in the distance, birds chirped, bees buzzed and every time a gust of wind came, which was often, it sounded like an earthquake tremor. So much for getting anything exciting on tape. Toward the end I thought I heard a couple of voices though not distinct, maybe one said, "here she comes." Then I heard my footsteps coming through the crunching grass, for some reason I got a chill as it sounded like a stalker even though I knew it was my own. The imagination can always add drama to our lives. Then I heard a scraping sound when I had picked up the recorder and heard myself start to walk away still recording. Then just before I had stopped the recording I heard a breathy-whispery voice that made my hair stand on end and sent chills down my spine. Click… I had snapped off the recorder. Disbelieving what I’d heard and hoping that I hadn’t I rewound the recording and listened again. Still I couldn’t believe what I heard so I rewound and listened to it a couple more times then let my husband listen hoping I was wrong. He heard the same thing I did as plain as any voice and it meant that whispery voice was right in my face. If I had heard it when it happened I would have dropped the recorder and ran out of that cemetery never to return. The deep voice said, "I could kill ya!"